


Bed of Roses

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sam's leaped home, but it's not the perfect homecoming they might have expected. There are still wounds to heal.





	Bed of Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1993. Published in "Wham, Bam, Thank You, Mam #6." 2002.

I turned over for the thousandth time that night, punching the pillow even though I knew it wouldn't help. I'd been tossing and turning on Sam's lumpy couch since ten o'clock that night. The neon pulse of the clock said it was now three a.m.

Not that I minded the discomfort. I'd do anything for Sam, enduring a few nights on his bed of nails was the least of which. And maybe it wasn't just the lumps that were keeping me awake.

When Sam had leaped home, we were all so high on that one single fact, we foolishly thought everything would be a bed of roses from there on in. Wrong. After a week of watching the bags under Sam's eyes get progressively worse, I finally backed him into a corner and got him to admit that he was having trouble sleeping. Dr. Beckett wouldn't take a sleeping pill if a gun was pointed at him, and warm milk and chamomile tea by the gallons hadn't eliminated the problem.

I had a feeling I knew what the problem was, I'd had more than enough nights like that after I got back from 'Nam. It was called fear of being alone. I knew Sam wasn't ready to talk about it yet, so I casually suggested I sleep over. His relief was as pathetically visible as his attempt to cover it up.

We spent a pleasant evening with each others' companionship, and he dropped off like a light as soon as he went to bed. Now it was _me_ having trouble sleeping.

Besides the lousy couch, I didn't know why. It could have been worry, but with Sam peacefully asleep in the other room, I should have been relieved. His quiet breathing was an audible lull wafting into the living room, the slight rustling when he moved in his sleep a reassuring sound. Yet something nagged at my nerve endings, accentuating the broken springs of the sofa almost unbearably.

I gave up the fight and sat up, reaching into the jacket that was draped over the back for a cigar. A sound startled me, and my hand paused mid-way. I listened. After a few moments it came again, a faint moan from the bedroom. Bad dreams were something else I knew from painful experience, only I'd had no one to wake me and release me from my nightmare prison. Sam did.

I got up and padded into the room, over to the bed. Sam was moving restlessly. The nightmare wasn't bad yet, but I knew it would be. When I heard my name cried softly, I climbed onto the bed and shook his shoulder gently.

"Sam...Sam?"

His arms suddenly gripped me in an iron vise. I held him, rubbing his back soothingly, urging him awake and murmuring words of comfort. Brown eyes opened slowly, focusing on me. "Al?" he breathed in a voice full of apprehension.

"Yeah, it's me, kid. It's okay, you're not alone..."

Sam's arms tightened for a moment, then loosened. I didn't let go. "Yes, I am," he whispered.

I understood, too well. We'd both been married when we went off, we both came back to an empty house. I hurt for him. "Hey..." I admonished, "what have I always told you? You're never alone. You've got me."

"But I don't have you," he whispered, so low I barely made it out.

"What are you talking about? Of course you--" _have me_... I trailed off into silence. The thought that ran through my brain had to be the result of fatigue.

"Of course I what?" Sam asked when I didn't continue.

"You've got me...as a best friend." And he was the best friend I'd ever had. Ever would have.

"I know," Sam answered, then said nothing more...as if he was waiting.

I definitely needed sleep, I was starting to get punchy. "It'll be okay, you just need to get used to being _you_ again. I know how it is. Those nights after I came home from the war, feeling lonely and hurt. All I wanted was..." The words faded from my mouth uncertainly.

He didn't question me. The silence was deafening, screaming across my nerve endings. I wanted to run from the room, I was glued to the spot. I knew one of us was losing it, but it probably wasn't Sam.

Finally, in desperation, I had to fill the void. "It's tough, I know. But I hope it helps to know I care, and I'll be here to help," I reassured him.

Care? There wasn't anyone I cared about more. Then...or ever.

"Help?" Sam almost sighed. Question? Plea?

"I'd do anything for you, you know that."

_Anything?_

The maddening part was that I didn't know whether the voice was in my head, or belonged to Sam.

"You would?" he asked.

_Anything..._

"Yes," I answered. "You know I...love you."

_Yes._

"I know," Sam answered quietly.

"What do you know?" I asked, hoping to figure out what was going on.

"That you'd do anything for me."

"What can I do for you?" I whispered.

"Be here. Care about me more than anyone else...love me..."

Over the years, I'd been his best friend, worried about him, cared about him, and cried for him. Taken care of him, and been there for him. There was only one thing I hadn't done for him.

"When I came home from Vietnam," I began, "I used to lie awake in bed at night, and wish for someone to hold me. Someone to love me and take the pain away."

Sam shook his head. "Not just someone...that certain someone."

"She wasn't there." _But I am...._

"I know," was all Sam said.

"Will I do?" I asked finally, smoothing the fatigue lines on his forehead.

Sam smiled, reaching up to touch my face. "You'll do just nicely. Perfectly."

_That certain someone..._

I never slept on his lumpy couch again.

**the end**

5/14/93


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